


Off Work

by samcatburglar



Series: A Scale in the Breeze [3]
Category: Slayers (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Slow Burn, this ones for the touch-starved bitches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:08:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28607268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samcatburglar/pseuds/samcatburglar
Summary: Filia and Xelloss walk home after the winter holiday rush at her shop, when Xelloss gives her quite the shock -- but not in the way she expects. On an unrelated note, Xelloss threatens to unionize.
Relationships: Filia Ul Copt & Xellos, Filia Ul Copt/Xellos
Series: A Scale in the Breeze [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055669
Kudos: 8





	Off Work

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was inspired by [this lovely piece of art](https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/86435527) by the same title! i'm sorry for any mistakes and the general uh. messiness. i only write when i feel tired and soft i guess, so.

“And finally we’re done!” the dragoness exclaimed. She was leaning with her back against the door of her now closed shop as another light snowfall was beginning to settle on the evening, washing the streets in a soft, but frigid blue. 

Xelloss tossed his staff into his other hand with an equal sense of finality. “Filia, I would wager every single person in Meadowe’s Creek entered your shop today.”

“And I wouldn’t take that bet, because I think you’re right.” Filia huffed a bit of exhausted laughter, and adjusted Val on her hip, who was drooling on her shoulder fast asleep. “Poor thing,” she murmured thoughtfully, pushing her nose into the crown of his head. “Tuckered right out and I hardly got to see him.”

“Oh because he worked so _very_ hard today,” Xelloss replied with a sneer.

“He did!” Her protest was soft, but no less earnest as she locked the door to her shop and raised her chin in the air. “He picked out the most _sensational_ wrapping paper for our customers.”

The demon sniffed. “And who do you think _sold_ all those chotskies and cups and bowls and all other manner of porcelain wares for him to wrap?”

Filia found herself laughing again, and her laughter curled into the night air in a warm sigh of steam. “Are you _really_ trying to compete with a toddler, Xelloss?”

“I’m only pointing out the fact that convincing an old woman who already bought enough porcelain to start her _own_ shop to buy even more is a feat much more noteworthy than a toddler slapping his sticky little hands on the brightest piece of paper he could spot.”

“His hands were not _sticky!_ ”

“Oh they’re always sticky, Filly. Like little gecko feet.” He wiggled his fingers for effect, his sneer beginning to curve into an impish grin.

As much as she wanted to slap him, the imagery of little gecko feet was in fact infuriatingly adorable for her baby boy. A grin of her own threatened at the corner of her pink mouth, but she merely scoffed in what she hoped was convincing disapproval.

“How dare--!” She let out an unintelligible growl of frustration. “You know what, I’m too tired to deal with you. Why haven’t you left yet? I’ve had to stare at you all day, and if I have to do it for one more second, I’ll scream.”

“It’s true, I have been here all day!” Xelloss said, perfectly cheery. He began to walk in step with her. “So I expect a full day’s wages.”

Filia’s cackle began with a loud snort. “Ha! Wages! Ha ha!”

Xelloss seemed unperturbed by this. “Plus commission, of course.”

“Commission!” Filia’s laughter was genuine now, so much so that she threw her blonde head back with the sheer preposterousness of it all. Imagine! Paying Xelloss money! After all the trouble he caused in her life, he expected to be paid like he’s just some normal employee -- comedy, in its purest form!

It felt good to laugh like this. When was the last time she’d done that?

At first, Xelloss was greatly insulted by the dragoness’ lack of care for his hours spent trotting back and forth between various tasks in the holiday rush of her shop. Both his brow and his mouth twitched with disdain. But the truth was, watching Filia laugh without a care for volume or propriety was a treat in and of itself. Her sharp teeth flashed as white as the snow falling in her hair, and a healthy flush of pink warmed cheeks that were rounded in a smile. As much as he tried to puff up like an affronted cat, the display was greatly diminished by his own growing smile.

“Yes!” he replied with a chuckle. “9 hours, plus commission!”

She waved him off with an elegant twist of her gloved hand, hardly able to stifle her laughter as she sighed, “Of course, of course, Mr. Metallium. You shall be paid in full. Right after I deduct the price of all the dish towels, paintbrushes, and various other items you’ve ruined in your time with me!”

“Of course, of course, Miss Ul Copt! And don’t forget to factor in all the various _gifts_ I have brought you as well.”

“That is _not_ how gifts work!”

“They do now.”

The pair’s smiles lingered long after their banter rested into comfortable silence, the two of them merely walking side by side along the road that lead back to Filia’s homestead. All that could be heard was the crunch of fresh snow beneath their feet, and the occasional sleepy grunt from Val. A couple times their shoulders brushed. Still, not a word was spoken. It seemed they didn’t need to at the moment.

Filia glanced up and around at the darkness that enshrouded them. Normally such darkness sent crawling sensations through her skin, an unhappy side effect from a childhood fear never properly addressed. Now, however, she walked freely. She enjoyed the cozy warmth of her scarf against her chin and took comfort in the steady breathing of her son in his slumber. After all, there was nothing in that darkness that could be worse than the Lesser Beast Xelloss Metallium. 

_And here I am, walking with him!_

She drew a deep, cold breath. Yes. She was walking with him. But for an ex-priestess who still lost sleep over visions of blood-streaked feathers and broken eggs, the relief of safety far outweighed the chagrin of wounded pride.

Filia broke their silence.

“...but seriously, Xelloss.” Her shoulder pushed into his -- by accident, of course. The ice was slippery after all.

Xelloss seemed to find that same patch of ice, and pushed his shoulder back. “Hmm? Seriously what?”

She paused, but finally made herself say it. “Thank you...for all your help today, it…” 

She hated herself for it, but she let her mind wander backwards to reflect on the events of the day. Filia retrieving a set of mugs as Xelloss counted coins. Arms brushing as they reached in perfect synchronicity for various tools -- quills, papers, stamps. Suppressing a shiver, she tried to finish articulating her thoughts in a noncommittal manner. “It was nice.”

Xelloss regarded her for a moment, one eye sharply focused on the minutiae of her body language in a way that deeply unsettled the dragoness, but before she could butt in with some hasty backtracking, his expression relaxed. 

“You’re welcome, Filia.” His voice was cheerful as ever, but it was lower. Warm, even. Or was it just caution steadying his tone? Like he was waiting for some kind of catch?

She clenched her jaw and nodded once. A civil interaction between the bickering and the fighting felt awkward, but shockingly, she didn’t hate it. A flush colored her cheeks, and unfortunately, it wasn’t from the cold.

It was at this time she felt gloved fingers weaving through hers.

Her head snapped down to look at her previously free hand, and sure enough, Xelloss’ hand was holding her own. Neat and casual, as though nothing was wrong. Filia tried to violently jerk free on instinct, her flush deepening and a screech rising in her throat, but his grip tightened too fast for her to escape.

“Would you _relax?!_ ” he chided.

If she wasn’t holding her baby, she would have slapped him so hard that perhaps his condescending nature would’ve fallen out of his skull like a tooth. Instead, she had to settle for whisper-screaming, “I will most certainly _not_ relax, what do you think you’re d--!”

“Filia,” he said with a surprising amount of patience. 

Filia noted that no one had ever said her name with anything close to patience, and quickly ushered that note out of her mind when she began to feel comforted by it. 

Xelloss stopped in his tracks and kept his grip on her hand. “Stop.” 

To her great irritation, she obeyed, and it wasn’t just because he was still holding onto her hand. She waited. He said nothing for a while, staring at her levelly with a strange lack of malice to his gaze. This was no trick. No disgusting leer, no infuriating grin. Just his eyes, open and calm and looking at her.

Neutral ground. It gave nothing for Filia to bite or scratch at in their everlasting battle against each other, and the ex-priestess had no idea what to do with the rage, the discomfort, or the confusion writhing in her chest like a caged stray. There was nothing left to do, and so Filia released a breath she didn’t know she was holding, feeling her shoulders droop.

_...I’m still here._

As if he knew this strangely sobering thought had entered her head, Xelloss finally spoke. He was quiet when he did so. “...what does this feel like?”

Brow furrowed, Filia looked down at their hands. Without her prompting, her mind once more wandered backwards. Back to back, Filia facing a customer, Xelloss inspecting a bowl behind her. Xelloss reaching over her shoulder to hand a customer their change while Filia wrapped their item in colored paper they both agreed on. She opened her mouth to speak, but could find no words to describe the warm ache of synchronicity that had kindled between them so easily and so naturally.

Xelloss prodded with the same surprising patience with which he had uttered her name. “Does it hurt?”

Filia looked up at him like a cornered animal, but shook her head.

“Does it feel bad?”

She hesitated. The fiery shock that had singed her nerves when he first grabbed her hand was fading, leaving in its place only a mild pricking sensation. Was this bad? She turned her head to one side, about to shake her head no, but paused again. She wanted to try something. Slowly, experimentally, she let her fingers curl around his until her grip was firm and steady. And much to her dismay and relief alike, there was a deep satisfaction that came with it. She was no longer chasing brief grazes like a dog chasing its own tail, endless and mad and confused -- it was an answer. Not the answer she expected or wanted, but nevertheless…

Filia finished shaking her head.

Xelloss closed the distance between them so that he only had to murmur to be heard. “Then…?”

Her gaze was still caged with confusion, but as she glanced up at him briefly through the snowflakes nested in her lashes, she nodded. 

But Xelloss was still staring at her, waiting for an answer. If she still protested, he would let go. It was, of course, no fun if Filia didn’t want this either. Even something as simple (and evidently as complicated) as holding hands. More uncertain silence passed, and just as Xelloss was about to retract his hand with some flippantly insulting comment to Filia’s repression, he felt a hard squeeze.

It hurt a little. No, it hurt a _lot_. He grimaced, a whine ready on his lips, but he was suddenly very aware of her blonde head poised right beneath his chin. She was pushing her face into his arm, bangs obscuring what he knew to be crimson cheeks and furrowed brows. Xelloss froze, eyes now sharpened with something icier than his earlier focus. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. He hadn’t planned for this repressed no-name ex-priestess golden dragon to upstage him in this way, and it made him so angry that for a millisecond he contemplated breaking all the bones in her hand.

Which was precisely why he had to keep her close. Why he had to make her _his._

His head and his chest felt like they were swarmed with insects, and he found himself reaching up to cradle the back of her head where it still remained firmly planted in his other arm. He didn’t look at her, though. He was too busy scanning the landscape for any half-wit degenerate who was idiotic enough to be watching his dragon. He almost dared them to come out of the winter-blue darkness that surrounded the road like a shroud, for an exiled golden dragon and her ancient dragon toddler made prime targets for ambitious mazoku and ryuzoku alike. Xelloss was an excellent hunter, and he was eager to protect his prize with the prim and precise violence that was his signature.

_Come on, little insects. Let me show her what fun I would have stomping on you._

When Xelloss didn’t respond right away, Filia peeked up at him with features already pinched with worry. But as she beheld his expression she felt a renewed unease rise sharply in her chest. It no longer held an ounce of his carefully curated humanity -- the sharpness in his open eyes was that of a predator waiting to strike, and she could feel his astrally projected hand tingle against her own. 

She realized with a scalding shock of adrenaline that he might kill her.

The serpent’s nest of humiliation, fear, and confusion twisting in her chest was quickly replaced by anger. It was the easiest thing to access, as it simmered just below the surface at all times.

“Xelloss if you didn’t want me to do something like that, why did you--!”

“No,” he cut off abruptly, instantly regaining the humanity in his face. “It wasn’t that.”

Filia always chose fight in a question of fight or flight, but tears always seemed to dampen whatever fearsomeness she displayed. She felt stupid for holding his hand. She felt stupid for taking it that one step further. She felt stupid for the pleasure and the warmth she felt when she was close to him. And she was absolutely humiliated that as soon as he cradled the back of her head, she felt her eyes sting and her throat tighten.

She hadn’t been hugged by someone in centuries. And now he was mocking her?

“F-F-Fuck you, Xelloss!” she stammered, voice thick with barely restrained sobs as she wrenched her body away from him. “Get away from me. You always ruin everything, you always turn something nice into--”

Xelloss let her go, but his face was snagged and twisted by insulted bewilderment -- he thought he’d done everything right. And now she was angry with him?

“I said it wasn’t _that_ , are you _deaf?_ ”

“Then what was--!”

“...Mama?”

Val’s voice was rough with sleep as he lifted his head from Filia’s shoulder. His brows pinched in anticipation of crying, and Filia’s attention flipped like a switch from Xelloss to her baby.

“Oh hatchling, I’m sorry, were we too loud?” As much as Filia wanted to jab Xelloss directly, she learned a long time ago that Val suffered greatly when the two of them fought, no doubt a softened remnant of the wounded Valgaav. For her son, pride was more than an easy sacrifice. She let the jab go.

The toddler only responded with an ill-tempered whine, letting his face fall back into his mother’s shoulder while he rubbed one eye. Filia bounced and rocked him, murmuring softly into his temple and kissing away the tears that were gathering at the corners of his golden eyes.

What Xelloss should’ve been doing was scaring the toddler into a full tantrum, thereby further agitating his mother and granting him a decisive win in this battle. But time and time again, he found himself merely sitting and watching the young dragon as though he were a strange specimen -- which, as the last of his kind, he was. Filia cooed and she soothed. It was what she was good at. He didn’t understand it, considering playing with him and his pliable neurons was much more fun, but he supposed that’s what made them a very strange and cooperative team.

For the most part, at least. Filia was completely ignoring him now, which set his teeth on edge. What had he done wrong? He’d studied mortals and their rituals of affection for centuries, and he did what he felt was appropriate and what truly felt _good_. It was genuine! Filia loved genuine!

“You hid your face as a sign of trust,” he snapped through the side of his mouth. “I was repaying it.”

Filia’s face was positively stricken with enraged confusion. “Repaying-- what, by looking like you were ready to kill something? I know that look, Xelloss, I felt your magic, it was--”

“When you hide your face, you forfeit your sight, therefore you forfeit all views of potential predators.” He clenched his fist in an attempt to not sound as testy as he felt. There was nothing more infuriating than explaining the obvious. “So yes. I _was_ ready to kill something. Protecting _you_. Hells below, Filia, you really should see someone about that crippling paranoia of yours. It ruins everything.”

Filia’s eyes didn’t soften, but she was once again rendered speechless. Only very slowly did logic and reason begin to worm its way through her mind, as it always did for her heart-forward soul. She and her son were alone with him this entire walk -- everyone else was bundled safely away in their lofts and houses in the village, and her homestead wasn’t for another mile. If he wanted to kill her, he could’ve done it multiple times.

And with a slight shiver, she somehow had the feeling that he would’ve wanted to be looking at her in the eye when he did it. That’s how she would kill him, after all.

She shrugged her shoulders. “You’re one to talk about paranoia. Looking for danger in some...no name country village.”

“Have you forgotten, Filia? I am a priest and general _both_.”

Filia had lost and they both knew it. An exiled golden dragon and her ancient dragon toddler made for prime targets after all, and scanning the wilderness for danger was something she did on every walk home. She couldn’t bring herself to say it, though. No, an apology was too far.

...but there were other ways to speak.

Xelloss rolled his eyes, discontent and frustration plain on his youthful face. He flicked some hair from his eyes and prepared to just disappear into the astral plane, leaving this hypersensitive harpy to the bitter cold of being alone on some inconsequential mortal holiday.

It was at this time he felt gloved fingers weaving through his.

He whipped his now open gaze back to the dragoness, and found her staring at the floor as she kept fearsome hold of his hand. Before he could open his mouth to protest and cry hypocrisy, she stepped forward and pushed her head right back into his arm. Neat and casual, as if nothing was wrong. At least, as neat and as casual as Filia Ul Copt could be. 

Her cheeks were puffed in consternation as she spoke primly. “Carry on.”

Xelloss kept his bewildered gaze on her for just heartbeats longer, before shaking his head with a wry smile. He knew what this was. It was an apology. She was just too stubborn to say it. But speaking with her body suited him just as well, simply because that was highly unusual for the dignified priestess. And highly unusual was his specialty. So carry on he did, step by step.

“You are very strange, Filia Ul Copt,” he mused.

“I’m not strange! I’m just…”

“Repressed, I know.” Filia’s infuriated squeak was quickly cut off. “Don’t worry, Filly, we’ll work on that with as much time as you need. Now, about my commission...”

“You are not getting a commission, you bastard!”

With the pair still linked by the hand, Val snored as the sound of lighthearted banter fully carried him to sleep.


End file.
